The Ender Experiment Never Alone
by Alexandria160
Summary: What if Ender had never been alone? What if there had been another perfect mix of Valentine and Peter? This is the story of the Wiggin twins. Rated T for mild violence.


DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ENDER'S GAME. IT IS THE PROPERTY OF ORSON SCOTT CARD.

I wrote the notes down on my desk. They could be useful later. Then the bell rang I signed out and stood up. I went over to my brother. As we were walking, I sighed. "Drew, you know you shouldn't have sent that note." As he was about to reply, the monitor lady came up to us and tousled Ender's hair. She smiled at us all nice-like and told us that our monitors were coming out, and that it wouldn't hurt a bit. I looked over at my brother and could tell he was thinking hard about that last part. Ender sat down on the nurse's table. I squeezed his hand. "You'll be fine." I whispered. Then I retreated to the other side of the room. As they started to unscrew the monitor, I could tell Ender was in pain. "Stop!" I said, "You're hurting him!" But, of course, no one listens to six-year-olds. Ender lurched off the table. "Ender!" I tried to scream, but all I could do was watch in horror as they finished up. "Ender." I whispered. The doctor looked from me to the nurse. "You want me to do it again?!" He sighed. I felt him twisting something at the back of my neck. I felt a small sliver of pain run through my body. I bit my lip. "She's starting to tense up! Do it now!" "Now?" "NOW!" I felt a little pinprick in my neck. My muscles relaxed. I looked at Ender. Faintly, I could hear the nurse and the doctor talking. But I couldn't understand it. A while later, I felt Ender's hand in mine. I got up, and we left. When we got back to class, Ender did all the talking. I sat down. As the other kids started to tease us, I looked at Ender. Then we both ignored them and started doodling on our desks. The teacher didn't mind. Ender and I always knew the answers, even when it looked like we weren't paying attention. A word popped up on my desk. Before it even turned right side up, Ender and I knew what it was. THIRD. I looked at Ender, and Ender looked at me. We were both smiling. Ender was the one who had figured out how to send messages and make them march. Even as our secret enemy called us names, we were proud. It wasn't our fault we were thirds. It was the government's idea. They were the ones who had authorized it. But now the monitors were gone. The experiment entitled third hadn't worked out after all. If they could, we were sure they would like to rescind the waivers that had allowed us to be born at all. Didn't work, so erase the experiment. The bell rang. Everyone signed off their desks or hurriedly typed in reminders to themselves. Some were dumping lessons or data into their computers at home. A few gathered at the printers while something they wanted to show was printed out. I spread my hands over the child-size keyboard at the edge of the desk and wondered what it would feel like to have hands the size of a grown-ups. They must feel so big and awkward, thick stubby fingers and beefy palms. Of course, they had bigger keyboards, but how could their thick fingers draw a fine line, like I could, a thin line so precise that I could make it spiral 79 times from the center to the edge of the desk without the lines touching or overlapping. It gave me something to do while the teacher droned on about arithmetic. Arithmetic! Valentine had taught them arithmetic when they were three.

"Are you all right, children?" "Yes, ma'am." Ender replied. "You'll miss the bus." I nodded and got up. The other kids were gone. They would be waiting, though, the bad ones. I quietly slipped into an empty room. Ender could handle them. I would walk home alone later. When I came out, I saw him crying in the hall. I ran over. "Ender, what's wrong?" "I'm just like Peter." "No, Ender, you're nothing like Peter!" Ender looked at me. "What happened?" I whispered. He told me everything. He had gotten up with me. His monitor wasn't on his neck, hearing what he heard and seeing what he saw. They could say what they liked. They might even hit him now. No one would come to Ender's rescue. There were advantages to the monitor, and he would miss them. It was Stilson, of course. He wasn't big, but he was bigger than Ender. And he had some others with him. He always did. "Hey Third." Don't answer. Nothing to say. "Hey, Third, we're talkin' to you. Hey bugger lover, we're talking to you." Can't think of anything to answer. Anything I say will make it worse. "Hey, Third, hey, turd, you flunked out, huh? Thought you were better than us, but you lost your little birdie. You got a bandaid on your neck." "Are you going to let me through?" Ender asked. "Should we let him through?" They all laughed. "Sure we'll let you through. First we'll let your arm through, then your butt, and maybe even a piece of your knee!" The others started chanting and jeering at him. Stilson and another boy were pushing him. Back and forth, back and forth. "See-saw," someone said. "Tennis!" "Ping-pong!" This would not have a happy ending. So Ender decided he'd rather not be the unhappiest at the end. The next time Stilson's arm came out to push him, Ender grabbed at it. He missed. "Oh, gonna fight me, huh? Gonna fight me?" The other boys held Ender. Ender didn't feel like laughing, but he did. "You mean it takes this many of you to fight one third?" "We're people, not thirds, turd face." Then they called him weak. But they let go. And as soon as they did, Ender kicked out high and hard, catching Stilson square in the ribs. He dropped. It took Ender by surprise. He hadn't thought to put Stilson on the ground with one kick. For a moment, the others backed away and Stilson lay motionless. Ender was trying to figure out a way to forestall vengeance. To keep them from taking him in a pack tomorrow. I have to win this now, for all time, or I'll fight it every day and it'll get worse and worse. Ender knew the unspoken rules of manly warfare. It was forbidden to strike the opponent who lay helpless on the ground; only an animal would do that. So Ender walked over and kicked Stilson again, hard, in the ribs. Stilson groaned and rolled away from him. Ender walked around him again and kicked him in the crotch. Stilson could not make a sound; he only doubled up and tears streamed out of his eyes. Then Ender looked at the others. "You might have some idea of ganging up on me. But just remember what I do to people who try to hurt me." He kicked Stilson in the face. Blood from his nose splattered to the ground nearby. "It wouldn't be this bad. It would be worse." He walked away. Nobody followed him. He walked inside. He could hear the boys behind him saying "Geez. Look at him. He's wasted." Ender cried. "I am just like Peter. Take my monitor away, and I am just like Peter." I looked at my brother. "Peter hurt others for fun. You were acting in self defense." I stood. "C'mon Ender, let's go home."


End file.
